So why Duncan Patrick?”
She smiled. “Because he’s a terrific guy. Although I have to tell you, the first thing I noticed was his laugh. He has a great laugh.”
The reporter blinked again. “I’ve never heard him laugh.”
“Then I guess you’re going to have to be more funny.”
Duncan moved toward them. “Charles,” he said, shaking the other man’s hand. “Good to see you.”
“You, too.”
Duncan turned his attention to her. “Let’s dance,” he said, taking the glass from her and putting it on a tray by the wall. He grabbed her hand and led her from the reporter.
Annie waved at Charles, then tapped Duncan on the arm. “I don’t really dance.”
“It’s not hard. I’ll lead.”
She didn’t know if that would help. “Do you think we could convince everyone to play Duck, Duck, Goose instead? Because I’m really good at that.”
Duncan stopped, turned to her and started to laugh. She was pleased to realize she hadn’t lied about his laugh—it was great.
“You’ll be fine,” he said, pulling her into his arms.
“Okay, but I apologize in advance for stepping on your toes.”
Despite the fact that he was taller, she fit easily against him. He moved with a sureness that made him easy to follow, guiding her with his body and the hand on her waist. After a few steps, she managed to relax a little.
He smelled good, she thought absently. Clean but masculine. His suit was soft under her fingers as she rested her hand on his shoulder. Heat enveloped her. Heat and something else. The whisper of a tingle low in her belly.
Annie kept moving on the outside, but on the inside, everything went still. Tingles? There weren’t supposed to be any tingles. This was a job. She couldn’t have feelings for Duncan Patrick. She shouldn’t like him or be attracted to him. He was her boss and their time together was just for show.
Maybe it was just because she hadn’t been on a date in so long, she told herself. It was like being really hungry. Any kind of food would make her stomach growl, even something she didn’t really want. Duncan was a good-looking guy. Of course she would respond. But she was smart enough to be careful. This was kind of like a fairy tale. She was Cinderella and the ball would end at midnight. Or in her case, Christmas. Only, there wouldn’t be a shoe to leave behind and in the end, no handsome prince would come after her.
Annie held up better than he’d expected, Duncan thought two hours later. She’d managed to tell the story of his stopping to help her with her flat tire a dozen times. She was so enthused and sincere, even he was starting to believe her. The guests at the party seemed equally charmed and confused by Annie. He’d caught more than one questioning look, as if they were wondering what he was doing with someone so…nice.
Even Charles Patterson, a business reporter, had liked Annie. All Duncan needed was a couple of favorable articles to balance the negative ones.
He collected the drinks from the bartender and returned to Annie’s side. He handed her the club soda with lime she’d requested—so far she hadn’t had any alcohol—and bent toward her as she touched his arm.
“I was telling Charles that his information is wrong,” she said to Duncan. “You’re not closing a shipping facility in Indiana, are you?” Her eyes widened. “It’s practically Christmas. Not only wouldn’t you put people out of work for the holidays, but it’s your busiest season. You need all the workers you can get.”
She was half-right, Duncan thought grimly. This was his busy time, but he’d had every intention of closing the facility. The rural routes it served weren’t profitable.
Annie stared at him, waiting for his response. He had a feeling she wasn’t playing—that she actually believed he wouldn’t want to put people out of work at Christmas. Charles looked smug, no doubt assuming the worst, which had always worked for him in the past.
Duncan swore silently and reminded himself that currently his reputation was more important than the bottom line.
“Annie’s right,” he said easily. “The facility is staying open at least through the first.”
Charles raised his eyebrows. “Can I quote you on that?”
Duncan nodded.
“Interesting.” The reporter moved away.
“Why would he think that about you?” she asked when they were alone. “No one would be that mean. It’s Christmas.” She took a sip of her drink. “It’s my favorite time of year. In my family, we’re big believers in more-is-more at the holidays.” She laughed. “We always buy a really huge tree and then can’t get it home, let alone in the house. Last year we had to cut off the top two feet, which is kind of sad. But they don’t look that big on the lot. Then there’s the decorating, the baking. I love Christmas carols. Jenny and Julie start to complain after a couple of days, but I keep playing them. Then we have Christmas movie-fest weekends when we watch all our favorites. What are some of your traditions?”
“I don’t have any.”
Her eyes widened. “Why not?”
“It’s just a day, Annie.”
“But it’s Christmas. That makes it more than a day. It’s about family and love and giving and imagining the best in the world.”
“You’re too naive. You need toughening up.”
“And you need to spend some quality time listening to Christmas carols. Don’t you decorate your house?”
He thought of his expensive condo and the look on his housekeeper’s face if he dragged in a live tree to shed on the bamboo flooring.
“I usually travel for Christmas. Skiing or maybe somewhere warm.”
“What about your family?”
“There’s only my uncle and he does just fine without me.”
She looked confused, as if he’d started speaking a foreign language. “Next you’re going to tell me you don’t exchange gifts.”
“We don’t.”
She winced. “Tradition is important. Being together. It’s special.”
“Have you been a hopeless romantic your whole life?”
“Apparently. How long have you been a complete cynic?”
“Decades.”
She surprised him by laughing. “At least you’ll admit it. They say that’s the first step in starting the healing process.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Want to take a survey of ten random people? I’ll put my Christmas traditions up against your noncelebration
